


better than being a hero

by Hecate



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, Siblings, Sister-Sister Relationship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-05 19:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11019741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecate/pseuds/Hecate
Summary: And Buffy missed this, the sheer, exhausting mundanity of being a sister. But all their arguments about school and breakfast and everything else are so much sharper than they used to be ever since their mom died, and Buffy thinks they might never get the easy parts of being sisters back.





	better than being a hero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rivulet027](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivulet027/gifts).



[Buffy still dreams of killing her sister.

It didn't happen, of course it didn't. It was just her despair and her guilt, her mind gone astray. And yet, she dreams. 

And Dawn dies.]

 

The sun shines through the kitchen window, painting the room in yellow and orange. It's the morning after Halloween, and Buffy is supposed to be angry with Dawn. And she is. Dawn lied to her, after all; Dawn got herself into danger even though she should know better. Knows better, Buffy is sure of that. 

But her little sister is bathed in sunshine and crying while eating cornflakes. So Buffy sits down next to her, wordlessly handing her a tissue. 

“I liked him,” Dawn says after a while. “I know it's dumb, but I liked him.”

Buffy stays silent.

“I staked him. I always thought staking vampires wasn't supposed to be like this.” Dawn looks at her, her eyes red, face wet and swollen from shock and grief. “Is it?”

Buffy shrugs. “I don't think there are rules for that.” She puts her arm around Dawn's shoulder, feels her fragile bones. “But you did good. I know it doesn't feel like that right now, but you did good.”

 

[Her little sister turned 15 while Buffy rotted in the earth, worms eating away at her as Dawn was eating birthday cake. She only realizes this when Dawn reminds Willow of her age in the well-practised tone of a teenager. 

And it hurts, this loss of time, the way it hits her again and again and still it never really sinks in. Her little sister is 15, and Buffy wonders what else happened to Dawn while she was away, wonders when she will find out about it. 

If she ever will.]

 

“What did you do on your birthday?” Buffy asks.

Dawn looks at her blankly. 

“A party? Did you have friends over?”

“No” Dawn says. “I just lost you.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, and tries to breathe into the sudden flare of pain.

Dawn looks at her, smiles. And it hurts to see the sadness on her face, the memory of loss. Her little sister was not supposed to look like that. It had been Buffy's job to keep all the things that make a smile like that from her. And she failed. 

“Want to have a party now?” she finally asks. “We can call it anything we like if it's too weird.”

Dawn shrugs. “That would cost money.”

And it's just another thing Buffy hates. Her sister having to think about money, wondering if there is enough left. She hates that she can't hide the shrinking numbers in their bank account like their mother probably did at times. 

“We'll think of something,” she promises. 

 

[She sings of heaven and peace, of warmth and comfort. She sings and her friends listen to her. And Buffy knows they're horrified. It doesn't matter, not as long as she is singing about all her memories of heaven. 

But then, there is Dawn. And she tells Buffy to live just like Buffy herself did before she jumped.

Her sister tells her to live.

And Buffy wants to do it for her. But it feels as if she can't.]

 

“Here,” Dawn says at 7:30 am on a Monday. “Breakfast.”

She shoves a plate with waffles into Buffy's hands, puts a cup of coffee on her bedside table. Buffy blinks at her.

“Thanks?” she says.

Dawn shrugs. “I made breakfast for myself. Thought you might want some, too.”

Then she turns, walks out of the room. “Gotta go, need to catch the bus,” she shouts, and Buffy stares at the empty place where her sister just stood seconds ago.

It's a Monday morning, and Dawn made her breakfast. Buffy never did that for their mother, not until she got sick. 

“I thought it was Saturday,” she tells the room.

 

[They lose their memories. 

Later, Buffy thinks the whole thing was a lucky break, a bit of happiness between all the shit going on. No memories, no pain, no constant arguing between them. 

But Dawn, she knew Dawn even then, and it's the funniest thing of all. That a spell could undo all she knows about being a slayer, could turn Giles and Spike into a family and take the love between Anya and Xander away. 

But Dawn, her made-up little sister, was her sister still.]

 

“When did you stop thinking that Angel and you could make it work after all? Like you still could get together after college or something...” Dawn asks.

Buffy stops mid-movement, her stake suspended above the dummy they’d put up in their backyard.

“Because I still kinda think of him sometimes. Not Angel,” Dawn hurries to say. “The vampire I staked. I kinda miss him. I think.”

Buffy stares at her and wishes all over again that their mom was here with them. She would have known what to say, would probably have told Dawn to leave Buffy alone. She's probably not supposed to talk with Dawn about this. Her sister is only 15 after all, and the thing with Angel... it had been bad when it hadn't been good. 

And it hadn't been good all that often.

Buffy shrugs. “Dunno. I think I kinda grew into it.” 

And it's almost true; this vague, blank feeling crept into her life through the years and it filled up all the holes Angel left behind. It was all still there with Riley, the holes and the feelings, and she thinks he felt that, the memory of somebody else. 

Sometimes, at night, she thinks Angel will come back, and she will be the girl she once was. Sometimes, she thinks they still will make it. But Dawn doesn't need to know that.

“It was a process,” she says.

Dawn nods.

And Buffy goes back to her training.

 

[Buffy protected her sister, just like she was supposed to. She slayed the monsters and she checked under the bed for them when they were both so much younger. She carried spiders out of Dawn's room without hurting them, and she threw mud at the children that mocked Dawn when she was in kindergarten. 

She lied to their mom when Dawn broke things by accident and lied to their dad when she broke things intentionally. 

Buffy died for her and she never regretted it.

But she didn't protect her from Willow. She can't forgive herself for that.]

 

“Ow!” Dawn says, shouts, really. “You're hurting me!”

“I'm washing your hair,” Buffy counters, jumping out of the way when her sister flicks water at her. “Dawn!”

“What?” Dawn replies. “I didn't do anything.”

“Yes, you did!” Buffy says, and it's dumb and ridiculous, and Buffy should worry about the mess they're making in the bathroom, should worry even more about Dawn's cast getting wet. But it hasn't been like this between them for a while, it's been accusations and absences and injuries and deaths and hellgods. 

And Buffy missed this, the sheer, exhausting mundanity of being a sister. But all their arguments about school and breakfast and everything else are so much sharper than they used to be ever since their mom died, and Buffy thinks they might never get the easy parts of being sisters back. 

But they still have this.

 

[There is a moment, right after the social worker left, when Buffy wants to give up, just like she did back when Glory was still unbeaten and Dawn was still the Key.

Because taking care of Dawn, making sure she is fed and clothed and going to school when she is supposed to, is as hard as fighting a God, and Buffy doesn't understand how their mom did it, how she kept doing it day after day, a never-ending row of obstacles to take.

She tells herself that bad marks at school and warnings about absences and social workers are just like vampires, they can be beaten with wit and skill and maybe slayer strength and temporary invisibility powers. But she can't bring herself to believe it.]

 

“You're not my mother,” Dawn screams, familiar grief in her words, and Buffy doesn't know what brought it on this time. Maybe it was telling her to clean her room, maybe it was asking about homework. 

She doesn't ask. Instead, Buffy nods.

“You're not even my...” Dawn goes on, and Buffy sighs. They’ve been here before. It's exhausting and dumb and painful.

“Dawn,” she says. “Eat your breakfast. Before someone thinks you're anorexic instead of being a victim of puberty.”

The kitchen door smashes closed a few seconds later, and Buffy almost shouts after Dawn. They can't afford to break the house, can't afford to break anything, really. But she swallows down her frustration.

She looks around the empty kitchen, looks at Dawn's abandoned cornflakes getting soggy, at the dirty plates from yesterday's dinner nobody put into the dishwasher, at the jacket Dawn forgot to take with her.

Buffy is alone.

 

[She visits their mom, stares at the gravestone, the flowers, all the things they use to cover up her death and absence.

“I think I'm messing up,' she tells her. “And I don't know how to do better.]

Buffy stares at herself in the mirror, at the yellow and orange clothes that look more like a Halloween costume that no one would ever buy than a uniform. She looks terrible and it's strangely fitting. Horrible clothes for a horrible job. 

“You look good,” Dawn says behind her, and when Buffy turns to her, Dawn is smiling.

Buffy snorts. “You're such a liar.”

“It could be worse?” Dawn tries. “Like... pink leather skirts?”

“At a fast food place?”

Dawn shrugs. “You never know what they would come up with to sell some burgers.”

And Buffy loves her sister, loves this moment, and she can almost see their mother standing with them, disapproving of Buffy's job because she would have wanted better for her but smiling at her daughters and their bad jokes nevertheless.

“Maybe yellow leather?” Buffy proposes.

Dawn shudders.

 

[After Katarina, Buffy thinks of Faith.

She wonders if Faith felt like this after she killed the Mayor's assistant, if she felt this empty despair, this urge to run. Maybe she did, but all her lies and Wesley messed it up for her, pulled her down and didn't let her go for so long.

Buffy always thought she was better than that. She would have turned herself in, would have faced the consequences. 

She would have left Dawn. Again.]

 

There are company brochures and business cards and college flyers on the table from the career fair Dawn went to with her class. It's all lawyers and doctors and journalists, it's gleaming papers and gleaming dreams. 

And then, between it all, is another recruitment brochure. Serious looking people staring at her from the paper, serious people in uniform, and Buffy knows that Dawn didn't take all this information about how to become a cop with her because she wants to join the force.

She knows Dawn didn't take that for herself.

And it burns to see that Dawn dreams for her sister, to be reminded of her failure and her dumb minimum wage job. It burns and it's beautiful because Dawn still believes that the Double Meat Palace isn't where Buffy will be for the rest of her life.

She takes the brochure.

 

[She still misses the place she went to after her death, even though the not-memories of it, the flashes of warmth and love and comfort, are fading away, are almost gone. She misses it and she wonders if she would go there again if she lost a fight now.

Because she fights everyday, with vampires and monsters and her friends and her sister. It would be so easy to slip up, to not be enough.

It would be so easy to let go.

But there's Dawn, and sometimes, there is hope, and some days Sunnydale and her home and her life are getting brighter.]

 

“Mom would have forced you to return all the stuff you stole,” Buffy points out.

Dawn shrugs. “That would include your leather jacket.”

“It would,” Buffy replies, thinking of her birthday party, a disaster like always, thinking of the jacket that is hanging over a kitchen chair. It's pretty. And expensive.

“So it's good that you are not Mom?” Dawn says, asks, and Buffy knows that there should be consequences for Dawn stealing things, there should be some kind of punishment. But she isn't their mother, she doesn't know how to be tough with Dawn when it's just life and not all the things that go hunting at night.

“I guess so,” she says. “But don't do it again.” It's an empty order, tacked on and stupid, and Buffy hopes that Dawn will take pity on her and do as she says.

 

[Riley is married and Xander won't get married, and Buffy doesn't understand how everybody who loves her is breaking apart, is lonely, is lost.

She doesn't understand how this is it for them, trudging through one apocalypse after the other, only ever enough to save the world but not enough for love.

And she is scared, suddenly, that her sister will end up just like them, that there is too much of her big sister in her to have more than what a slayer can offer. 

And that can't ever be enough for Dawn. Buffy won't allow it. ]

 

Buffy brings home burgers again, burgers and fries, and she should hate that this became their family dinner after their mom's death, should hate that she has no time to cook and Dawn can't cook instead of her. But her sister is home and so is she, and there is food and a movie, and it's routine and reality.

“He's hot,” Dawn says, pointing at the main character, some bland, good-looking guy.

“Really?” Buffy asks, and she thinks of all the guys she liked. No one without edges among that crowd, no one that could pull in ratings from normal people. 

Seems like her sister is smarter than Buffy when it comes to that.

“Kinda,” Dawn goes on, and it's all so achingly normal for a moment. Buffy can almost see it, yard parties and barbecues and boy drama; she can almost see it, even know when beneath it all, it's only dead guys and addictions and demons.

And she loves her sister for it.

“Okay,” she replies, taking a bite out of her burger, and it's stale and unfulfilling. “I can see it.”

 

[She never told Dawn about the first vampire she killed, how she wore her cheer-leading costume; how she was young and scared and so much like Dawn.

She never told her that her world broke apart when the vampire turned to dust, how it hurt her that monsters were real and her parents had been lying to her for all those years.

But then, her parents didn't know the truth, couldn't have told her the truth, and Dawn grew up with both her sister's realities and her parents' truth, and there was always a distance between the two. 

Because Dawn knew, she always knew, even before their mother did. And that was a secret shared between sisters, Dawn keeping windows and doors open so Buffy could return home without their mother finding out, always threatening to tell her until the secret gave out and their mother found out on her own. 

Her sister is stronger than her, Buffy thinks. Dawn never grew up with the idea that monsters existed. She grew up with her sister dying because of one.]

 

“Will and Tara, yay or nay?” Dawn asks, and they haven't played this game for a while. It used to be about actors and singers, it used to be about people who were only half-real. But those people don't really matter these days, not after giant snakes and evil slayers and hellgods and a sister right in the middle of puberty

“Yay,” Buffy says, and she puts her back and her convictions into it.

Dawn grins. “Like a soap opera. Shit just works out in the end.”

Buffy doesn't comment on how things twists and turn in TV shows, then, how things go bad right before the end to draw people in and to push up the ratings. Her sister deserves better than that and so do Willow and Tara.

“Xander and Anya, yay or nay?” And that is a stupid question, too, with a wedding that didn't happen and with Warren and his cronies popping up every few days to turn their world into chaos.

“Yay,” Buffy replies. “I hope.”

Dawn nods.

 

[There are moments Buffy puts in a box in her mind later on, horrible things too sharp to just leave lying around where she could think of them all the time. 

Spike and his words and his hands and the pull he had on her. 

Tara's body on the floor. 

Dawn's voice a wound when she spoke. “I didn't want to leave her alone.”

Willow and Warren and a death in the woods. 

Willow all black-eyed, Willow all furious, Willow turned dark and angry and so very lost. Willow and Willow and Willow.

But there are moments Buffy tells herself to remember, some lessons she doesn't want to unlearn.

And it's all Dawn. It's Dawn in that hole in the ground with her, it's Dawn with a sword in her hand, standing tall and brave. It's Dawn and the promises Buffy made the day Willow tried to kill the world.]

 

“How did you know the other world wasn't real?” Dawn asks as they walk into the day, the world and them still standing despite everything Willow did and tried to do. The world is resilient. And so is Buffy's sister. “Back when Warren and the others made you go crazy.”

And Buffy answers easily, because it is, and because the two of them are alive. “You weren't in it.”

 

[These are things Buffy remembers: Dawn screaming through the night when she was still a toddler and got sick, the shirt Dawn loved when she was 5, the first time her sister got home from school and told their mom that she never wanted to go there again. Little moments and big fights, shouts ringing through the house, Dawn's hand in hers so many times. 

And it's all real, though so much of it never happened, all important and precious and Buffy will never let go of it.

These are the hours Buffy remembers: The moment when Glory took Dawn and her sister was simply gone, lost, and Buffy felt her die beneath her hands on repeat, lost in her own head. The moment when Giles told her they might have to kill Dawn to save the world, and Buffy knew with sharp certainty that she would never, ever forgive him for those words.

She chose Dawn over the world then, and she knows that she would do it all over again. She would jump from any tower and she would let the world go to ruin for her little sister. Because Dawn is worth more than anything the world has to offer, and there is something far more important than saving all the cities and oceans and people.

Never letting go of her sister's hand.]


End file.
